More Than I Bargained For
by Jessie McDonald
Summary: A little while ago, I started writing the plot of The Mummy from a new character’s perspective. It failed, but I haven’t been beaten yet. I’ve revised the story and the character. So enjoy and review when you‘re done.


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Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own any of The Mummy characters. They belong to Stephen Sommers and will continue to belong to him until he gets back to me about a selling price. I do, however, own Amelia "Amy" Mitchell (take that, Steve) and any other miscellaneous characters that weren't in either of the two movies (hee, hee, hee).

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Summary: A little while ago, I started writing the plot of The Mummy from a new character's perspective. It failed, but I haven't been beaten yet. I've revised the story and the character. So enjoy and review when you're done.

To this day, I'll never quite understand what possessed me to go to Hamunaptra. Even afterwards, as I sit here on a boat heading back to Cairo, I still can't make sense of it. My only hope is that, by writing all of it out from beginning to end, I can come to some conclusion. I mean, before I left, I was living a happy existence as a photographer in New York, part of the great US of A (no doubt you've heard of it). 

Okay, truth be told: this was the 1920s. Despite the recent demand for equal rights and the establishment of the nineteenth amendment, nobody wanted to hire a female photographer - even for one of those stiff family photos. Don't ask me why. All I know is that it had something to do with gender discrimination and the idea that a woman's place still is in the home. 

So, where was I exactly? Oh yeah! With no customers in sight, I was economically forced to make ends meet as a waitress at some two-bit restaurant along the NYC coastline. It wasn't bad job really, if you like the sticky smell of fish and vulgar sailors trying to get a good look up your salmon pink excuse for a uniform. But hey, I try to look on the bright of things...most of the time.

And who am I you may be asking? My name's Amelia Mitchell, but most people call me Amy. Most people means my sane friends. My boss, a fat guy by the name of Louie, probably forgot my name a long time ago, so he just calls me, "Hey, you." The sailors and other disgusting customers that waltz into the restaurant have several different names for me like Cutie, Babe, You Gorgeous Thing You, and Doll (I really need to find a new job.).

Oops, was I getting off subject again? Sorry, its sort of a bad habit of mine, but get used to it cause you never know when my spontaneous rambling may come in handy. Then again, maybe its better if I just tell you everything you need to know about me before I continue.

Anyway, I'm not your average 1920s sort of gal. Sure I have a quite temper and a sassy tongue to match it. I also have a fierce independence (that's probably why I'm twenty-four and still single). But, when it comes to looks, I'm no blonde bombshell. My straight, long, frizzy hair is a color some beautician on eighteenth street called dirty dishwater blonde, kind of a mix between brown and blonde. My eyes, supposedly my best feature, are a solid brown color with the ability to stare and glare, entice and penetrate instantly (How else do you think I keep those sailors and/or drunkards at bay?). Although my figure isn't exactly "Hey, look at my ribcage!" thin like this model in the latest Sears Roebucks catalog, I can at least take some pride in the fact that it isn't doesn't look horrendous in my close-fitting work uniform.

Next comes my history. I never knew my parents or at least I have no known memory of them. Supposedly my father was in the army and was transferred to Cairo shortly after I was born. Being the model family, my mother (I don't know what her occupation was or if she even had one.) and I (a tiny baby at the time) went with him. A few months later, both of them were dead and I was dumped in an orphanage with five other orphaned army brats. I'm not sure how they died, but I always tried to imagine that because of some dramatically situation like during a siege or a deadly plague.

Anyhow, one of those army brats was a boy by the name of Richard O'Connell. Most people called him Rick though. (Honestly, I'll never understand why some parents choose such damn proper names for their kids if they - the children - go by a nickname instead.) Given that our parents had "bought the farm" (his term, not mine), Rick and I were like each other's family. We socialized as often as possible at the orphanage and knew quite a lot of secrets about the other person (Like how Rick has a fear of snakes even though he hides it pretty well, but you didn't hear that from me.) We also let each other get away with these little habits you would normally punch a guy in the face for (Like my habit of getting on his case about any girl he may like, but I'm not going to mention any names.).

But the problem with close friends is that they can't stay together forever. Eventually they grow up and go their separate, never to hear or see each other again. At least that's what happened with me and Rick. 

About seventeen years after we met, the time came for us to leave the orphanage and, even though we had many similarities, we didn't want the same destiny. I wanted to go back to America and try my hand at photography whereas Rick wanted to join the French Foreign Legion. I last saw him strutting all masculine like, pistol hanging from a holster around his waist, into an army recruiting office to sign up. I, on the other hand, bought a ticket for the next boat to America, 35mm camera hanging on a chain around my neck. He never looked back and neither have I.

Damn it, my stomach's growling and I was just getting to a good part in my story. Oh, well. I'll go fill my stomach and will be back soon. I just hope its okay to leave this notebook on this deck chair.

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- So what do you think? Is it worth it for me to continue? I'm not sure if all the content is historically accurate. If you see something out of place, let me know. And please don't get the idea that I'm going to set Rick and Amy up. Given that I'm a Rick and Evy fan, its definitely not gonna happen. However, I do intend to pair her up with someone else. You'll see his perspective in the next chapter. Any guesses?


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